It was my first day on the banks of Lake
Kariba. Just weeks before I had said goodbye to the rough waters of the
North Sea with its sturdy, powerful, trawlers and seiners. Now I gazed
on this calm body of fresh water stretching 120 miles along the Zambesi
valley south of the Victoria Falls. The dam had been completed the year
before, and now the lake level had risen to near its full capacity.
Thousands of Batonga tribesmen had been displaced from their traditional
villages on the banks of the Zambesi river, and, after some
understandable resistance, had been resettled around the shores of the
new lake. Subsistence farmers all their former lives, they had grown
maize corn which they dried and pounded into a rough flour used to make
their staple food of mealie-meal porridge. Some of the corn was
fermented in 45 gallon drums to brew the potent native beer the men
enjoyed. What little fishing they did in the river was conducted from
crude dug-out canoes made from the trunks of the largest local trees.
But now they had an enormous lake to harvest. And fish, unlike maize,
were a cash crop. So most of the Kariba lake Tonga had money in their
hands for the first time in their experience. They soon began to replace
their traditional river canoes with planked boats. A metal box
manufacturer fabricated some steel boats for the fishery. They were
heavy and slow to paddle, and quite unseaworthy on the choppy conditions
of the lake. They were sold to fishermen on 3-year loans, but their
bottoms rusted out after one year.
But to go back to my first impressions of
the Zambesi valley fishery, - I watched as a warped dug-out canoe headed
out from the shore in the afternoon, to set its nets in one of the areas
that had been cleared of trees before the water rose. The nets would be
hauled after sunrise next day, with dozens of fat tilapias, carps and
catfish which would mostly sold for a standard price of 4 pence per lb
then, paid by traders from the copper-belt towns came to the lake in an
assortment of trucks. (At that time a labourer’s wage was one shilling
and ten-pence halfpenny per day, so a catch of 11 lbs of fish would be
equal to two days labour).
Each truck carried blocks of ice buried in
sawdust for insulation, - a technique that worked quite well. The fish
purchased were packed in the ice which was broken into small pieces for
that purpose. A layer of leaves, grass and sawdust covered to top of the
iced fish, then the container was closed until the truck arrived at the
markets in Kitwe, Ndola, and Mufulira, some 300 miles to the north,
where thousands of miners and their wives would purchase the Kariba fish
at prices around double what the fishermen received. Buyers who could
not get ice, or had no truck, would hard-smoke the fish and wrap them in
basket-like containers of branches and leaves. These would be carried on
any available transport for sale by the main road or railway line above
the escarpment that surrounded the valley.
The dug-out I watched was paddled by a crew
of three. Its nets were of thin white nylon twine, 4 inch mesh, made at
Kenyon’s net factory in Salisbury, Southern Rhodesia. (I was later to
get the mesh sizes increased to 5, 5½, and 6 inch, with no loss of catch
weight). Modern synthetic materials ended there however, as the floats
were of local wood, and the weights of clay. But the little canoe was
obviously making money, as the ‘skipper’. If we can call him that, was
seated on the stern, wearing a pair of plastic sunglasses. He was not
having to paddle. Instead, on his knees he held a battery-powered
transistor radio which was blaring out music from a local radio station,
thereby entertaining the crew, and probably also scaring the fish away
from that part of the lake !. It all looked rather incongruous to me.
But over the years to come, and in many parts of the world, I was to
find that sudden access to money and technology could impact on
primitive fisheries in some strange ways.
The outboard motor is an example of a modern
propulsion unit that is globally available and easy to use, but it
consumes a lot of fuel, and needs regular replacement of expensive spare
parts. Promoted in the 60’s and 70’s by Jan-Olaf Traung of FAO, it was
useful to a point in the era of cheap fuel, but now whole fleets in West
Africa and the Pacific are stuck with this uneconomic unit of propulsion
which has a short working life. The larger artisanal fleets of India,
Indo-China, and S.E. Asia in contrast, opted for the simple power-pole.
This was an ordinary small motor as was used to drive pumps or
generators, which was attached directly to a long shaft with a propeller
at the end. The unit was fitted in a metal frame and tied or strapped to
the side of the boat or the canoe. A tiller arm was attached so the
long-tail as it was called, could be used as a steering pole as well as
for propulsion. Crude but effective, the power-pole spread rapidly
throughout the fisheries of Thailand, Indonesia, and neighbouring
countries. Today there are hundreds of thousands of these low-cost,
economical units in use. Unlike the outboard motor, they can be
fabricated and assembled in any competent garage or workshop, and their
spare parts are cheap and readily available. Some of the units are large
and powerful, as in the Bali Strait purse seine fishery for sardine,
where they drive big decked vessels. I have seen one such boat powered
by four 50 hp units, fitted two on each side.
In 1980 I listened to a fisheries director
from the Maldive Islands tell how that country’s fishermen used sail and
paddle for centuries until motors were made available. The leading
fishers obtained some and had them installed in their boats. Soon they
were out-fishing the rest of the fleet. That led all other fishers to
mechanise. But catches then levelled out per vessel, and the total catch
of tuna stabilised at its pre-mechanisation level. But now the operating
costs of each boat had risen with the need for fuel and engine
maintenance. So, in the end it was concluded that the fishermen were
worse off. They were not producing any more fish than before, but they
were earning less due to higher operational expense. This simple tale of
an island country’s experience, carries a lesson for all other
fisheries.
Generally speaking, artisanal fishing boats
in Africa and Asia, are rarely equipped with magnetic compasses or
lead-lines (to measure depth and get an indication of sea-bed type).
Barometers are also conspicuous by their absence. Each of those items
are simple to use and cheap to obtain, and were relied on for centuries
by fishers in the northern hemisphere. But as technical innovations come
within the financial means of the small fishers, one finds them
purchasing and using cell phones, and even the smaller sat-nav units at
times.
If the impact of technological changes on
poor countries and less developed fisheries took some bizarre forms on
occasions, the steady progress of modernisation on fishing fleets of the
USA, UK, Europe, and Japan, could appear brutal and ruthless in
comparison. To me it has resembled a juggernaut that could not be
questioned, halted, or even slowed down. It was powered by capital
investment from companies motivated by profit, and the prospect of long
term control over resources and markets. Politicians generally
capitulated to their wishes, thinking naively that these developments
represented economic progress, and blind to the social and environmental
destruction that was often left in their wake.
But to counter the suggestion that
resistance to progress would be a Luddite attitude, and hearkening back
to the Stone Age, perhaps I can cite the experience of artisanal
fishermen on the coast of North Java, an area that I know well, and have
visited often since 1973. This coast had over 100,000 canoes and over
300,000 fishermen, when I first worked there over 35 years ago. Today
the numbers are much reduced and living conditions improved.
The situation in 1973 was reflective of the
economic condition of Indonesia as a whole. The country was still
recovering from WW2 and from its war of Independence with the Dutch
forces, plus an attempted communist coup in 1965 that resulted in
200,000 to 500,000 deaths in the subsequent purge, depending on whose
statistics you accept. Labourers wages were 6,000 Rupiahs a month, which
at that time was around US $ 15, working out at 50 cents a day. That was
for those who were fortunate enough to get paid employment. Rural women
planting and harvesting rice received less (though they were able to
take some of the harvested rice home for their families). Many of the
unemployed gravitated to the lowest kind of work, - pedalling a becak
rickshaw, (pronounced betchack), - the most common form of
local transport in the towns and cities. One becak ride then cost about
50 Rupiahs, or 15 cents US. Since none of the operators owned the becak,
at least half of the fare went to the merchant who leased the vehicle to
them. How these poor people survived and fed their families, was a
constant source of wonder to me.
The economic survival of fishing families
was also a bit of a mystery as on the surface, it seemed that few of
them were earning any more than a labourer or becak driver ashore. Like
the rice harvesters, they probably got a few fish to help feed their
families. But the individual daily catches of the chompring
canoes were pathetically small, - barely enough to fill one 5 kg basket.
Occasionally, during periods of fish spawning or migration, catches
would be much larger, but these exceptional times were brief annual
occurrences. So it was obvious that productivity and financial returns
needed to rise substantially.
The problem facing Indonesia then was one
that is common to all poor countries with large populations. The work
force was too large, the technology too primitive, capital was scarce or
unavailable, and if ten thousands of fishers were to be displaced to
allow the others to catch more fish, - they needed alternative
employment. The alternatives did not exist. Most of the becak drivers
lacked paying passengers much of the time, or could only get poor people
like themselves who paid 7 cents or less a time. Meantime the burgeoning
new cities like Jakarta were struggling to cope with their rapid
expansion and the demands it placed on water, sewage, electricity,
telephones, and roads. Ugly squatter settlements were growing and
spreading along the railway lines and canals, and in many back street
slum areas. The city could not contemplate further influxes of redundant
fishers or farmers.
But over the next thirty years, the general
economic situation improved. With its massive oil wealth, (despite
massive corruption), Indonesia was able to invest in heavy industry and
to expand its schools, hospitals, roads, communication systems, and food
distribution. Millions of jobs were created and these began to absorb
the unemployed and under-employed from both urban and rural populations.
The changes also affected the agriculture and fishery sectors. Simple
mechanisation items like single axle tractors hit the rice fields while
power pole propulsion units were introduced on the larger sailing
canoes. These innovations were appropriate technology in the true sense
of the term, being low cost, low fuel consuming, and easy to operate and
repair.
The huge numbers of Java Sea canoes
gradually declined as the older boats lived out their life span, and
were replaced by smaller numbers of motorised units. The change occurred
over a thirty year period giving the fisher population time to adjust
and to find alternative sources of income. So, overall, the
technological development of the Java Sea small scale fleet occurred
with minimal economic or social disruption. But there were other factors
at work that had a beneficial impact.
The government had banned the use of shrimp
trawlers throughout the Java Sea and Western waters of the archipelago.
I thought that this would result in more shrimp being caught by the
artisanal fleet, but that happened only to a limited degree. What did
occur, to my surprise, was an increase in the amount of fin fish taken
by the small boat fleet. The reason lies in the nature of shrimp
trawling which destroys three times more fish in weight than the shrimp
it captures. This is commonly referred to as trash fish by the
shrimpers, but actually it is a mixture of good fish, small fish, and
other marine life that is taken up in the trawl net. The populations of
these fish species expanded when the trawling stopped, and some small
canoes were now coming in with boatloads of the admittedly cheap, but
also nutritious fish. It led to resurgence in the use of the Japanese
version of the Danish seine net.
Danish seines have been used in Denmark and
Scandinavian countries, in Scotland, England, Ireland, and Canada, and
to a lesser extent in Australia and New Zealand. They are lightly rigged
bottom seines that are pulled over the sea bed at the end of long rope
warps that herd the fish towards the net. Danish boats operated the gear
by use of a winch while moored to an anchored buoy. Scottish boats towed
the gear slowly through the water while also winching the warps in with
a 4 or 6 gear winch. The Japanese in contrast did not use the winch
until the warps had been towed together, enclosing the circle formed by
warp and net at the start of each tow. When I first visited Indonesia
there were a few small boats operating a small bottom seine much in the
Japanese manner. Ten and twenty years after the shrimp trawl ban in that
country, there were scores of boats using such bottom seines. They were
landing surprisingly large catches of fish, though the fish were small
and of low value.
But the fish were still useful and contained
good protein. So they filled a dual role in providing low-cost food for
the poor, plus some trash fish that after it was sun-dried, could be
used to supplement the feed of poultry and cows or goats. There is a
constant need in lands where large populations of poor people have to be
fed, for low-cost protein. Normally the poor folk have only rice or
noodle, with the addition of tiny amounts of vegetable and chillies. In
the countries of Indo-China they might add small amounts of fermented
fish paste. But the change in fishing gear and fish catch in the Java
Sea, provided an unexpected source of cheap fish protein, suitable for
the low-income market.
Technical changes in the modern and western
fishing fleets have been driven more by the desire for greater
efficiency or economy. The use of huge expensive purse seines to catch
herring and mackerel in large quantities has largely given way to
mid-water trawls, mostly two-boat mid-water trawls, or pair trawls.
These pelagic nets are also large and expensive, but perhaps less so
than purse seines. However, the next wave of changes is more likely to
be in adaptations that greatly reduce the power and fuel needed to
operate those enormous deep sea trawls. The challenge for our big
fishers now is not how much fish they can catch, but how little fuel and
capital they consume to catch the limited amounts of fish available if
the fishery is to be sustained.
In both trawl and line fishing it is now
possible to sail as far away, and to catch a similar amount of fish, by
using a much smaller boat with less power. So we have had the rise of a
fleet of 45 to 75 foot wooden boats that can operate on the grounds
worked by much bigger steam trawlers of half a century before. The
engine horse-power of the smaller boats may look similar to that of the
old steam engines, but the modern diesel engine is small and consumes
much less fuel than the coal or oil-fired steam engine.
The fishing gear has also been transformed.
Trawl nets of the first half of the 20th
century were made of manila, hemp and cotton. Today they are mostly of
polyethylene twines and polyamide (nylon). That allows for thinner and
stronger twine. The mesh sizes are also different. The old trawl nets
had small mesh netting from the cod-end up the bag and out to the wing
ends. Modern net-makers and fishers now realise this is not necessary.
If the net is well designed and hung to ratios that make every mesh open
and taught, small fish like herring can be caught when the wing meshes
are as large as one metre or half a metre. What happens apparently is
that the taught meshes set up a vibration in the water that guides the
fish away from the netting until they are overtaken by the mouth of the
bag. They do not attempt to swim through the big meshes till it is too
late to do so.
Deep sea long lining has also changed
remarkably. I have been on many Japanese tuna long line boats whose
decks were covered with hundreds of coils of tarred cotton lines which
were linked together and set, mile after mile with their baited hooks,
to capture the large pelagic fish. Today most tuna long liners are half
the size and tonnage of the older boats, and have about half the engine
horse power of their predecessors. The lines are made of monofilament
nylon and are wound onto large reels leaving plenty clear deck space for
handling the tuna. The older boats had large freezers to handle the
fish, but the new fleets use only ice and land the fish in top condition
after relatively short trips. Fresh tuna command top prices on the
Japanese sashimi markets. In order for frozen fish to get similar prices
they have to be frozen down to minus 60 degrees, and that is an
expensive process.
Technical change is affecting the handling
of fish from the moment of capture, and is helping to raise the value of
catches in most of the developed markets. Better to sell half a ton of
fish at $ 2 per kilo than double or treble that weight of fish for $ 1
per kg or less. This trend is being pushed by quality control systems
that insist on careful handling and low temperature as soon as the fish
come out of the sea. Every box of fish is identified in a way that
continues through the marketing channel from boat to fish market to
merchant’s premises and on to retail outlets. If a poor quality or
damaged fish is found, it then becomes possible to identify the
merchant, the port, the fishing boat, and even the time and place of
capture. In this way, flaws or mistakes in handling can be identified
and rectified. The system works only if the fishers are adequately
recompensed for the additional time and care required to apply all of
the fish handling recommendations.
Putting all that together, I believe that it
is now possible to restructure our fishing fleets in ways that will
maintain fish production without threatening sustainability of each fish
stock, and will minimise both the capital and the fuel or energy cost of
fishing, while also maximising the social benefits in the form of
employment, prosperity of coastal communities, and the quality and
nutritional value of the product to all consumers. We need to work
towards the creation and maintenance of local fleets of small boats
using low-impact gear, and harvesting local fishing grounds in
sustainable ways, and supplying local processing units. We can do it.
Let us commit ourselves, - all of us in government and in the industry,
to achieving that ideal.
For offshore mackerel and herring large
capacity vessels are needed, equipped with refrigerated seawater tanks
to maintain the fish in prime condition. They need big ports with the
facilities to handle, process and store the large catches. In Britain,
Europe, USA, Scandinavia and Japan, such modern large investment fleets
are in operation.
Poorer countries should not follow that
pattern since their priorities are employment and food production. They
should work towards better quality maintenance on their boats, markets
and fish plants. But that can also be achieved by having RSW tanks
installed in their smaller wooden seiners and trawlers. Much of the fish
catch in those lands is lost due to spoilage, or is sold for animal
feed. The amount lost to human consumption varies from 20 to 30 per cent
of the total catch. Saving the amount currently lost is equivalent to a
production increase of that percentage. By introducing the quality and
refrigeration improvements one also gives a massive boost to the onshore
post-harvest industry, creating more jobs and incomes. |